Pasha: The private life is dead - for a man with any manhood. Zhivago: I saw some of your 'manhood' on the way at a place called Minsk. Pasha: They were selling horses to the Whites. Zhivago: It seems you've burnt the wrong village. Pasha: They always say that, and what does it matter? A village betrays us, a village is burned. The point's made. Zhivago: Your point - their village.